I opened my eyes. In the light, it was something I could do for only up to three seconds at a time. I was cold. After living in a sweet, warm womb for nine months, I had finally entered the big, wide world outside. The hours that had led up to the moment had been happy ones. I was looking forward to getting out of my cramp, congested home. “When I get out,” I had said to myself, “I’ll be able to play, dance and wonder.” In my mind, I would be stepping into a better world, a space that would be all mine, and only mine.
When my days of anticipation had finally come to an end, however, the reality appeared to be contrary to what I had imagined. I could not stand the light, the cold in this place I had come to on my own accord.
“Amma.....!” someone had been uttering these words when I stepped outside. And I couldn’t help feeling like they were words uttered in great pain, perhaps the greatest pain the person had ever felt in her life.
“Don’t worry, dear. Everything is going to be all right. Calm down,” said another voice as it struck on my ear.
The two voices were completely different from each other, and I felt as if I knew the first voice particularly well.
“Congratulations!” said a third voice sometime later, sounding somewhat furious, although it was relaxed. “You have given birth to a beautiful daughter, Mahima jee.”
